


Story Needs Some Mending

by orphan_account



Series: Chao's Kink Bingo [20]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: And also porny, Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Scars, cute boys being cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-12 08:48:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles can't stop watching him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Story Needs Some Mending

**Author's Note:**

> Because if I didn't have at least one locker room scene, I think I'd be kicked out of the fandom.
> 
> Title from 'Fairytale' by Sara Bareilles

Once upon a time, Isaac had been a nonentity. Just another guy on the team, known only by the number 14 and a bark of _’Lahey!’_. It wasn’t a mean thing, really. It was just that they didn’t interact much. Different social circles, if either of them had gotten enough social interaction to make a circle. Isaac had always been quiet, almost to the point of being standoffish, and Stiles’ loud personality was just as good at pushing people away as it was gaining him attention. And so, despite spending several hours together a couple of times a week, they managed to never really see each other.

But then Isaac joined Derek’s island of misfit toys and things changed. Even if they hadn’t been friends at the time, Isaac had become a player in Stiles’ life. Once they had become allies, he was a bigger piece. A rook, maybe, instead of a pawn. And now it was hard not to notice him. Isaac was one of the blips on Stiles’ radar, and it made him want to interact with him, like he might Scott or Derek. Except, unlike them, Stiles couldn’t _stop_ noticing him. Without thinking, his eyes would slide over to Isaac. Like, for example, right now. As Isaac pulled off his shirt to change out of his uniform, Stiles kept tracking the movement. Watching how the muscles played under his skin, more noticeable now than they’d been - and even as distant as they’d been, Stiles could tell that. And he could see how the light played off his skin, highlights dancing over his shoulders and spine. 

When he did, it brought the lighter lines in and out of focus, and Stiles wished he could look away. That was private, and he was damn sure Isaac wouldn’t want him staring. But they just stood out to Stiles. Called to him, in a weird way. Now that he knew where they’d come from - his father, mostly, but a couple in the back looked like they’d come from blades, which meant Allison probably caused them - Stiles wanted to do... something. Soothe them. Make them better. And it was stupid and impossible and he should just back away now, except that they kept drawing his attention back and starting the whole process over again.

It occurred to Stiles, as he finally pulled off his own jersey, that the locker room was empty. Even Scott had cleared out, and he was left feeling like he’d missed a cue. The feeling got worse when Isaac turned around, still shirtless and hair mused, and raised his brows. “Yes?”

“Yes what?” Stiles replied, because he was clearly an intellectual genius.

Isaac’s brows drew together, and he frowned. “You were practically staring daggers into my back. I figured you wanted to relay a message or something.”

Much as he wished he was the kind of person who could control his blushes, Stiles really wasn’t. So his cheeks burned red, and he ducked his head instead. “Um, no, sorry. Just daydreaming.”

Not looking convinced, Isaac narrowed his eyes at him, and Stiles tried not to look too guilty, and probably ended up doing the opposite. Finally, the boy looked down at his chest. Stiles could see the exact moment Isaac remembered his scars. Honestly, he was kind of surprised the guy had forgotten, but he supposed being a badass werewolf helped distract from those sorts of things. 

Ducking his head in a mirror of Stiles, though his movements were born of shame rather than guilt, Isaac started to shrug on a shirt. Stomach twisting, Stiles couldn’t help but reach out, as though he could snag the shirt away from halfway across the locker room. “No!” Isaac froze, looking like nothing so much as a startled deer, and Stiles forced himself to lower the volume. “You don’t have to.”

Isaac’s expression shuddered, and he frowned at his lap but didn’t move to put the shirt on. “It’s okay, I get it. Not very nice to look at, right?”

Before he’d fully thought through what he was doing, Stiles scrambled over until he was sitting next to Isaac on the bench. The other boy didn’t flinch, exactly, but he watched with big, wide eyes, and Stiles didn’t fool himself into thinking the poor guy wasn’t preparing for a strike.

Instead, Stiles slowed his movements, like he might with a wounded dog. The appropriateness of the comparison wasn’t lost on him as he reached forward.

Slowly, his fingers made contact on one of the scars on Isaac’s shoulder, and the werewolf gave him an odd look but didn’t move away. “It’s okay. I wasn’t really... My staring was for much more shallow reasons.” He let his hand slide over Isaac’s arm, curving with the muscles, before dropping it back to his side.

Comprehension dawned over Isaac’s face, and his expression cleared of shame and changed into surprise. “Really?” Then, more shyly, he added, “They didn’t bother you?”

“Really really.” Stiles shot him a grin, and felt a little better when Isaac’s mouth curled up in a pleased little smile. It was like the sunrise. If the sunrise was also adorable. Really, someone having that kind of expression just wasn’t fair. How was Stiles supposed to defend against it? “Not bother, no. I mean, I noticed them, sure, but I don’t think they’re gross. I just kinda...” Noticing the smile start to fade, Stiles shook his head hard. “No, not like that. I just wish I could make it better for you, you know? It sucks that you have to carry them.”

Snorting, Isaac shrugged. “It’s no big deal, really. Things are different now, and that’s enough.” Giving a wry, almost bitter smile, he stared down at his knees. “What could you do about it, anyway?”

Something in his resigned posture made Stiles’ stomach twist, and so he steeled himself before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the scar he touched before. Isaac went very still, and then gave Stiles such a hopeful look that he couldn’t just stop there, sliding down to press his lips against one right below the dip of his collar bone. “Kisses make hurts better.” He murmured, almost childishly.

“I wouldn’t know.”

And, really, the only way to respond to that was to keep going. “I’ll just have to prove it.” Stiles replied, leaning up to press a quick, soft kiss to Isaac’s lips. The boy’s mouth fell open in surprise, though Stiles wasn’t really sure why since he’d been kissing far stranger places, but whatever.

Trailing his mouth down, pressing his lips softly to every mark, Stiles sighed. “You can tell me, if you want to talk about them.”

After a second of silence, Isaac shook his head, and Stiles could feel his muscles move under his hands with the gesture. “No,” he replied, but before Stiles could feel too... disappointed wasn’t the best word, but he didn’t have a better one, Isaac continued. “Some other time.”

Soothed by the promise, Stiles nodded and kept going. As he got more confident with the actions, and Isaac seemed to be relaxing into them, he couldn’t help but push a little. His lips parted ever so slightly, letting his breath ghost over the skin, occasionally joined by a flash of tongue. He could practically feel Isaac heat up under him, languid, happy movements picking up speed, and Stiles smiled against his side.

Soon enough, Stiles had gotten to all the scars on Isaac’s upper body, and he paused, not sure what to do. Isaac made a soft noise that sounded like begging, like Stiles not going on would physically hurt him, and wasn’t this about making him feel better? If he stopped, then that would be the opposite of what he was aiming for. So, movements slow but steady, Stiles undid his fly and pulled down Isaac’s jeans and boxers, inch by inch.

When there was no protest - in fact, what Stiles was seeing was the opposite of protest - he continued his task. This time, though, he didn’t bother to hold back. Instead of just wet kisses, he started to lick and nip and suck as he desired, leaving little, bright marks on his hips and thighs. The red skin highlighted the shiny white of the scars, but that didn’t matter, because Stiles had made them into something else. At least for now, they were his instead.

There were less here, so it didn’t take as long for Stiles to get them all. And, well, since he was already on his knees in front of Isaac, the obvious conclusion seemed to be to move his attention to the werewolf’s cock. Licking over the head once, to get a sense of the flavor (no different than his, maybe, but it was difficult to be sure), he sucked and licked at where the head met the shaft, moaning slightly at the feeling. It was a surprisingly pleasant experience, actually. He liked how thick and heavy it felt on his tongue, the slight twitches and movements with his own presses, the musky scent and the sharp taste.

Before he could really get going, suddenly there were hands under his jaw and he was pulled up and away. Stiles groaned in protest, but that stopped when Isaac settled him in his lap, so he was straddling the werewolf. That aligned them nicely, and Stiles gave a quick, experimental buck. The feeling of the friction, even with a layer of cloth between them, felt amazing, and he couldn’t help but moan in Isaac’s face. Eyes going slightly yellow, Isaac gave a noise that wasn’t quite a growl back, and then nuzzled against Stiles’ jaw.

As slowly and carefully as Stiles had treated his scars, Isaac nipped along his jawline and throat until he was close enough to slide their lips together. Immediately, the werewolf opened his mouth, which made Stiles’ lips part as well. The tongue slipped passed Stiles’ lips, and he started to suck on it automatically, making another of those delicious growls run through him to settle in his dick.

Fingers slipped over his pants, palming for a moment, and then Isaac undid Stiles’ fly, shoving the fabric roughly out of the way. For a second, he let the palm of his hand press into Stiles’ cock, drowning out his whimper in his mouth, and then moved it out of the way so they could thrust together.

Precome was dribbling from Stiles’ dick, but it was nothing compared to the constant stream Isaac was letting out. He wasn’t sure if it was because the other boy was that turned out, or if it was a werewolf thing, but fuck was it hot. Plus, it made their thrusting slick. Wet noises snuck out from between them as their fluids mixed together in the friction, and Stiles moaned and bucked all the harder.

Isaac was the one to give first, whimpering softly and then spilling hard onto Stiles. The sudden wet heat made him shudder and come as well, adding to the slick mess.

For a second, both boys sat there, panting and a little stunned by what had just happened. But Stiles was too tired to bother yet (later, he most assuredly would), so he just rested his head on Isaac’s shoulder and sucked at his neck, right over one of his marks. The werewolf shuddered and then relaxed, swaying like it was an effort to keep both of them up.

“Is this a one time thing, or...?” Isaac finally asked, voice thin.

Stiles just hummed, more interested in licking than thinking. “It can be. Or it can be something else. M’cool with doing more.”

Shifting a little, Isaac gave a little nod, which was annoying because it made it hard to keep up what he was doing. “Oh. Okay.” The silence stretched out for a long minute, before he tilted his head to look down at Stiles. “We should clean up. Wanna go in the showers next?”

A smile flashed across his face, and Stiles gave an extra hard suck. “Give me five minutes.”


End file.
